Pasta Night

If not for some card-playing, nut-cracking, beer-swilling, wise-assing fellows outside, this Saturday afternoon would drone on and on with me deep in the Pleasure of the Text or The Transcendence of Ego. My sisters are asleep, the electric fans dispelling the heat. I found that either or both of them stacked some Mateus and Vin d' Algerie in the old ref. Since Ma is off to the market and my brother is off to borrow some videos, I figured I could make some pasta. I text Dad to come home early because I'm making wkend-long psta.

I'm still waiting for Ma. I asked her to get tuna, cheese, and tomato paste for me. My custom garlic grind is waiting too, along with the sliced peppers.

Okay she's here. I'll get back to the notepad after I finish this.

An enter key and an hour or so later, it's done. Ma arrived with everything I needed. She threw in a couple of grilled corn the effort. I bit in every so often and sipped some chilled Mateus. Ma offered help with the onions, the part I least liked because of the tears (which told me I've gone too long without regular cooking chores, my eyes weak again for tears). Ma was still too close to spare my eyes. We timed it perfectly; we didn't let the chopped onions oxidize a minute too late. The sauce took a while. Ma bought quick cook noodles; it took me just five minutes to finish them.

There, it's done.

Now, they're eating a 7pm dinner. Since Shrek has all their attention, I'll just read or eavesdrop on wise-asses.